Daily experiences

Monday, November 12, 2012

The next couple of days are going to be pretty busy for me. Its the most important festive season and both the celebrations and prayers are long. Hopefully, I will have something more to write about the next time. Until next time then.

Saturday, November 10, 2012

A Diwali meet was going on in my complex when the news came to us. It was around 8:30 PM and most people were finishing their dinner. An unanimous decision was made by all the adult residents to suspend the planned events and call it a night.

The parents didn't want their young kids to know what had happened. So no public announcement about the death was made. The only news that the young one's heard was that there would be no tambola games organized tonight.

A group of these boys came up to one of the uncles standing next to me and asked him the reason for this 'wrong' decision. Uncle was caught between the devil and the deep sea - He didn't want to interfere in the decision of the parents but on the other hand the kids wouldn't budge if they didn't get an answer.

He tried to ignore the matter by saying that the decision had been taken by all elders and that the decision was final.

One kid made a very innocent but just objection - "You have to tell us the reason uncle. It's not fair. Why can all the girls know about the reason, but not us boys?"

All the young girls new about the death. One of them had overheard a few elders talking among themselves about it. And the word had spread like wild fire. However, there was an unsaid understanding between the girls that no boy should know. Unable to control themselves, one of the girls had taunted some guys about their lack of 'knowledge'.

The boys were not hurt because their parents hid the information from them. What they couldn't accept was that how come the parents didn't tell them, when they had already told the girls.

Thursday, November 8, 2012

I have made many good friends in my life. But somehow,
nobody has even come close to the bonding I had with this one special friend of
mine – let’s call him John for anonymity’s sake.

He was one of the first friends I made when I shifted to my
new school. Within 2 months of joining that
school, we had become the best of friends.

We were almost inseparable. We were in the same class in
school and most of our time after school was spent together. It was around the
time we had read the story of Damon and Pythias. For our common friends, we
were the living embodiment of the legendary friends.

We used to play all the games together. We used to fight
with people or stop talking to people just because the other person had a fight
with this third person.

We used to share all kinds of thoughts and ideas – in their unedited
form – literally speaking our minds. Without the usual censoring that people do
when speaking in front of other people. We even talked about things that we
were afraid or ashamed of talking about in public.

We used to share our joys and help each other in our pains. Whenever
his parents were worried about his studies or his behavior, they used to ask me
to talk to him and to make him understand - they thought I could most influence
John.

My parents had more trust in him than they had me. They
found him more mature and level headed. Even if he used to ask for permission
for things not permitted for me, he was never denied it. The feeling was the
same when it came to his parents and me.

In many ways, we seemed to be facing similar kinds of
problems in our lives.

He was my go to man for almost any problem. He was also the
guy who felt happier than me when something good happened to me.

Normally guys are not known to talk much with other guys on
the phone. However, we have spent hours talking on the phone even after having
spent the entire day together.

When I called him, often I used to spend more time talking
to his maid and his mom, than I did talking to him. Even our moms chatted a lot
with each other.

He was the one who gave me my first drink because he thought
it was insane that I hadn’t even tasted liquor till then.

We even fell for the same girl in school – Sara for the sake
of the story. In such situations, what you would normally expect is that it
would mean trouble for our friendship. And we did fight a lot, but to convince
the other person to not feel guilty, and instead propose the girl first! That
experience made me realize how important our friendship was to the both of us.

Eventually, when I decided to go ahead and approach the
girl, I was feeling sad on the one hand for the possible heart break of my dear
friend. On the other hand, I was obviously feeling exhilarated.

I never for once thought that I had a chance with the girl.
Although, I was in for a surprise - she accepted!

A week after the event, I and all of my friends went to
another friend’s house to celebrate. As we were about to leave her home, John
accosted Sara and me and told us that he wanted to make a disclosure. He told
her that he had liked her for a long time but now that Sara and I were dating,
he did not want to leave and potential for misunderstanding between us. So he
wanted her to know about his feelings and that he would now try to get over her.
John said that, for him, his friendship with me was very important and he could
not let anything come between me and him.

Both Sara and I were shocked! I had never expected it. But
after I recovered from the initial reaction, I was very proud of my best
friend. My respect for him grew manifold. How many people had the guts to do
such a thing?

But such were his ways. He was the most wonderful person
that I knew then and probably one of the most wonderful people I have ever
known.

To be continued... (One story is too small for me to describe our friendship)

Wednesday, November 7, 2012

A few days back, I was faced with a tricky situation. I was
having a conversation with my dad and one of his business partners.

Uncle – as
I usually called his business partner – wanted to know what plans I had for the
future. I explained to him that I was still trying to understand my interests
and passions, but I was certain that I wanted to get an MBA education from one
of the top business schools in the world.

Unknown to me, his son was preparing for engineering
entrance exams for colleges in India. Tired of the immense amount of hard work
required to get the scored required for a good enough college, he had recently
given up preparing itself. His idea of higher education now revolved around
giving the SAT and aiming for a university in the United States.

Parents in India are often scared about sending their kids
to the US for undergraduate studies. According to them, the influence of the west has already started ruining the morals of the younger generations. They feel that if their child were to
study in America in those formative years, he would grow so enchanted with the
country and its preference for instant gratification, that he would settle down there itself. They
however think that since we are more mature when we go for our masters, we
might be able to take a more ‘sensible’ decision.

Parents don’t want their kids settling down in a foreign
country, far from the Indian culture. And most of them think that the
institution of family has degraded completely in the western world. As a
result, relationships in the west have become more about momentary pleasures
and less about loyalty and dedication. And the media does highlight this often
enough, even going to the extent of proclaiming that weak family ties might be
the main reason for high rates of depression in the West. Parents don’t want
their kids to imbibe such values.

Uncle was discussing the pros and cons of studying in the US
and I could provide him with many pros – better quality of education, greater
flexibility, experiential learning, greater emphasis on innovation and
out-of-the-box thinking. It is my belief that had I studied in such a conducive
environment, I would have retained my love for technology and maybe even
entered the field of research. At least, given the kind of options that would
have been available, there were greater chances of me finding my true passion.

I tried to assuage his fears by explaining all this to
uncle. I told him that his values would hold his son in great stead and that he
shouldn’t worry so much. Uncle wanted me to talk to his son and help him with
his decision making process. However, I had no answer to uncle’s single most
important albeit rhetorical question – “If he goes to the US, isn’t there a
chance he might never come back?”

Don’t get me wrong, I like working for social causes. But I
have a genuine distrust of these intermediary based donation schemes. Just by
putting up a donation box or asking for some donation from you for a charity,
they earn lots of brownie points. I always wonder why they don’t donate money
themselves by giving a percentage of their earnings to the charities and
therefore actually do a good deed. Lets not forget the doubts about whether the
donated money actually reaches the people who need it.

We returned to our
seats and continued our conversations. In time, our respective drinks also
arrived. Our evening continued on as planned.

After a while, a few child beggars came outside the café and
started staring through the glass walls with a longing look. We, in India, are so
used to such scenes that I doubt many people even noticed the kids. Before
I even registered their presence, I saw one of the waiters come forward
with a bunch of cookie packets and give them to the beggars. I was stunned and
humbled. Not often do you see such generosity.

I don’t know who paid for those cookies and neither do I
care. The workers at that particular franchisee of CCD, and in turn the organization, had earned a significant amount of respect in my eyes with that small act of
kindness. I not only saw people preaching others to do some good, but also saw
them practice what they preached.

I went to the bill counter and gave
them some money for the donation. I believed now that maybe the money would be
put to good use. I thanked the workers for what they had done and came back to
my friends to continue on with a day that didn’t seem so normal anymore.